


Petty Theft

by churchwash



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (Stealing Clothes), Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Leonard L. Church | AI Program Alpha/Agent Washington, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchwash/pseuds/churchwash
Summary: Epsilon learns that Delta likes to collect his exes' hoodies.





	Petty Theft

**Author's Note:**

> I should've written this for rare pair week. did I? no. Delta is a hoodie ho and has every anxiety disorder
> 
> (Alpha and Epsilon are twins, the other AI are not related in any way)
> 
> ((very important: Delta is 4'11))

Epsilon sifts through the right side of his closet, frowning. His favorite hoodie is missing. Come to think of it, quite a few of his hoodies are missing. He searches the whole length of the closet, checking every hanger. After a few minutes, he gives up and backs out of his closet, shutting the door. Maybe he left it at Alpha's. Or maybe — ah. It probably just got mixed up in the laundry. It doesn't happen often, with Delta's clothes being so identifiably small, but it _does_ happen.

He heads to Delta's dresser, hoping that his hoodie is in there, rather than at Alpha's. He really doesn't want to deal with him and Wash today. He opens the drawers one by one, giving the neatly folded clothes cursory glances. He doesn't mean to snoop. The third one down looks promising, but the hoodies in there are solely Delta's. In the last drawer, he hits cotton gold. His favorite hoodie, sky blue and perfectly fitted, is folded on the top. He grabs it and is halfway to shutting the drawer when the sweatshirt that was under his catches his eye. He's pretty sure that's Alpha's.

Epsilon sets his hoodie aside and picks up the next one in the drawer, unfolding it and holding it out infront of himself. White with black sleeves, a small tear in the left cuff that was patched up a long time ago. Definitely Alpha's. Epsilon thinks back, and okay, his brother probably had just left it here last time he was over. But that doesn't explain why it's in _Delta's_ dresser. _Another_ laundry mix up?

He looks back into the drawer, and okay, something's up. He drops Alpha's hoodie. Next in the pile is a sweater. Epsilon frowns and takes that out as well, holding it up. Way too big to be either his or Alpha's. And _definitely_ not Delta's. He sits down, folding his legs under himself, and sets the sweater in his lap, looking at the tag on the collar — XL. …Wash's? It's his size, his style. But why would _Wash's_ clothes be in Delta's dresser?

"Okay, what the fuck."

Epsilon sets the sweater aside, and starts digging through the drawer, not caring that he's ruining however Delta had organized these hoodies. He starts pulling sweatshirts out at random. A red Texas Tech one — Sigma's. _Another_ of his own, leeched from the dryer on laundry day. Two Texas A &M hoodies and a black and gold Nike pullover — York's. Another _four_ that he recognizes as Wash's. A purple turtleneck that he's pretty sure belongs to Omega. He pulls out one sweater that dwarfs him. It must be … Maine's? He's the only person Epsilon knows that wears clothes this big. He's pretty sure Delta would be completely covered, head to toe, in it.

He runs through the list: Sigma, York, Omega, Maine, Wash, and himself (and Alpha, by extension). They're all … they'd all dated Delta.

Delta's been stealing and hoarding his boyfriend's hoodies for years. … It sounds more sinister than it is, he realizes, but _still._

Epsilon blinks and stares down at the sweatshirt in his hands. "My boyfriend's a thief," he says to the empty room. There must be hundreds of dollars worth of hoodies stuffed in that drawer. He's never seen Delta wear them, has never seen them in the laundry, so is he just … hiding them in this drawer? Why?

Gathering a few of the hoodies from the floor, Epsilon stands up and leaves the bedroom, heading out towards the kitchen, then the living room. He finds Delta on the couch, sitting up against the arm rest and tapping at his phone.

Closing the distance, Epsilon drops the pile of hoodies into Delta's lap. "What the fuck is this?" He asks, folding his arms.

Delta looks to the clothes, then up at Epsilon, setting his phone aside. "What do you mean?"

"I found these in your dresser I — are you just hoarding them?"

Delta blinks and runs his fingers over one of Wash's hoodies. "I … own them, yes," he replies, sounding confused. "Is that wrong?"

Epsilon huffs. "They all belong to your exes!"

A small line forms between Delta's brows. "Does that bother you?"

"I-I mean, no, not really. But it's just. Don't you think it's a _little_ creepy to hoard all your exes' hoodies?"

A shrug.

"It's _weird_ , Delta," Epsilon says. "I mean, how many do you even have?"

Another shrug.

" _I_ don't steal my exes' clothes, Delta."

"It's not stealing," Delta protests, his frown deepening. "I just … happen to acquire them, and no one has said anything."

" _Delta_ ," Epsilon says, exasperated.

Delta replies, "I don't understand what the big deal is, Epsilon. They're articles of clothing. Nothing more."

Epsilon rubs at his forehead and sits down on the couch next to Delta. "You don't even wear them. I've _never_ seen you wear even _one_ of these."

Delta just shrugs again, looking over at Epsilon, then down at the pile in his lap. "I wear them when you are not home."

"Christ, I know you do weird shit, D, but really? Hoarding hoodies? Are they like … trophies?"

"No, I simply like them."

"You don't wear them!"

"I don't wear them _when you are home_ ," Delta repeats. "There's a difference."

Epsilon raises an eyebrow and grabs Sigma's TTU hoodie, feeling the fabric between his figures. It's a nice texture, and Delta does look good in red. "Why? Is it like … your dirty little secret?"

"I suppose. I figured you would get jealous. You already get jealous over everything," Delta says, glancing at Epsilon with the barest hints of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I don't get _jealous_ ," Epsilon huffs. "I know you wouldn't do anything."

"No, I wouldn't. But you are still very, very jealous, Epsilon," Delta teases, turning towards him, pulling his leg up onto the couch to get closer and more comfortable. He moves the sweatshirts off of his lap, depositing them onto the coffee table.

Epsilon knows where this is going, and Delta's weird hoodie obsession is wiped from his mind. For now, at least. "Yeah? You really think so?"

"Yes," Delta says simply. "Very much so."

There's a beat of silence, and then Epsilon's leaning in to press his lips against Delta's, feeling the edge of his glasses dig into his face. Woops. He hears Delta huff, his lenses undoubtably smudged. They pull apart, and Epsilon gives him an apologetic smile as Delta takes his glasses off, wipes them down with the hem of his shirt, and places them on the coffee table as well.

"Better, Princess?" Epsilon teases, leaning in again.

Delta just hums, and now they're kissing, just gentle presses of their lips against each other. They can't get _too_ into it — Epsilon's supposed to hang out with Tucker soon, he just got sidetracked. But he can sacrifice another few minutes to kiss his boyfriend. He can always make time for that.

Soon enough, though, Epsilon's phone is ringing in his back pocket. Tucker, he guesses, as he pulls away from Delta and wipes his lips, reaching for his phone. Yep, Tucker. Leave it to him to interrupt.

"Sorry, he must be waiting on me," Epsilon mumbles, standing up from the couch and giving him another apologetic smile.

"It's not a problem. I'm just glad we could have some time to ourselves," Delta says as he puts his glasses back on and rubs at his overheated cheek. "Despite the interrogation about my clothing habits."

"It's still weird. We still need to talk about that," Epsilon insists, taking his favorite hoodie — the one he'd been looking for — from the pile and pulling it on.

Delta huffs, and, dare Epsilon think, pouts. "I do not understand _your_ obsession with it."

Epsilon shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair to try and get it to lay right. "It's weird, D. Just — trust me. If you _wore them_ it would be different but you don't!"

"Then maybe I will start wearing them." It sounds like a challenge.

Rolling his eyes, Epsilon huffs a laugh. "Whatever you say. I'll see you in a couple hours, okay? I'm just heading out with Tucker. I'll text you."

Delta nods and offers him a "see you later, Epsilon," before he grabs his phone, presumably resuming whatever game he'd been playing before Epsilon had interrupted.

Epsilon leans down to give him one last quick kiss, and then he's gone.

\--

He's back a few hours later, as promised, kicking his shoes off in the foyuer of their apartment. "Delta!" He calls out, "I'm home!"

He doesn't get a response, but that's typical. Epsilon drops his keys in the little bowl on the counter, and peeks his head into the living room, but no Delta. He notices that all the hoodies are missing. Delta must've put them back. He heads into the bedroom, and isn't suprised to see Delta there, sitting against the headboard with his laptop resting on his thighs. He's wearing Sigma's hoodie, the red one. It looks nice, if not too big. Cozy.

"Hey," Epsilon says, wiggling out of his jeans and crawling into bed, lying down next to Delta. "You know we have an office with a desk for a reason, right?"

"I do," Delta answers dryly, glancing at Epsilon. "How was Tucker?"

A simple answer, because he knows that Delta doesn't like Tucker, and really doesn't want an in-depth response. "Fine. He's doing all right."

Delta hums and moves his hand away from the keyboard, out towards Epsilon, and Epsilon knows this cue, taking Delta's hand and squeezing gently. They sit for a few minutes just like that, Delta reading something on the screen of his laptop with Epsilon resting at his side, eyes closed and his breathing settling out and slowing down.

Eventually, Epsilon opens his eyes again and looks up at Delta. "So..." he starts, trailing off.

"So," Delta echoes, not bothering to look away from the screen.

"Your stolen hoodies," Epsilon finishes. "I see you're wearing Sigma's."

Delta sighs and closes the lid on his laptop, but doesn't move to settle into bed with him. "They're comforting. I just _happened_ to collect them. I did not intent to take so many."

Epsilon snorts. "It happens. You should've seen Alpha's closet before him and Wash moved in together. Or Carolina's. I think half of her closet is filled with ex-boyfriends' clothes."

Delta looks down at him and frowns. "Then why did you make such a point of it earlier, if it is not abnormal?"

Epsilon shrugs, closing his eyes again and shifting a bit on the bed. "It threw me off. You just … never wear them."

"I am now."

Epsilon snorts. "Yeah, I saw that."

"… I was … self-conscious. That is why I didn't wear them," Delta says after a beat, sounding a little awkward.

"Really? Why? They're just hoodies. I mean, there's a lot. But I've always known you liked 'em."

Epsilon can feel Delta shrug, and he takes that for what it's worth — a gesture of that self-consciousness. He's embarrassed, or ashamed. He can't quite tell, and he knows Delta won't open up to him. At least, not yet.

"Okay," Epsilon says, squeezing Delta's hand. "It's whatever, D. It really isn't a big deal, I promise. Was just thrown off." A pause, then, "You should probably give them back though."

Delta moves his laptop off onto the nightstand, and lies down with him, turning onto his side to face Epsilon. "Absolutely not," he says.

Epsilon peeks an eye open. "Not even Alpha's? He's been bugging me about that hoodie for months."

Delta hums, and then he sighs. "I suppose I could return it to him."

"And mine?"

Delta smirks, a small dimple forming in his right cheek. "You can always find them in my dresser."

Epsilon laughs and shifts closer to him, slinging his arm over Delta's side. "You're an ass."

"I disagree," Delta teases, taking his glasses off and reaching over to drop them onto the nighstand with his laptop. He settles back onto his side and continues, "They are simply comfortable."

"Whatever, D. And I thought _I_ had a thing for hoodies."

There's a stretch of silence as they both relax with each other, but after a few minutes, Epsilon hears Delta take a breath and hold it, like he wants to say something.

Epsilon shifts his arm so his hand is at Delta's side, a comforting weight against his ribs. "What's up?"

"They help my anxiety," Delta finally says, his voice oddly … small. "It is comforting to wear them. That is why I kept so many from my past relationships."

"Oh." Epsilon feels his face twitch into a thoughtful frown. "Really?"

Delta nods, and Epsilon can feel him shift, undoubtedly self-concious once again. "Yes. I — I figured it was an odd coping mechanism, and I was ashamed to wear them around you. I thought you might get jealous. I know you are … wary of how many relationships I've had in the past few years."

Epsilon hums and moves the hand on Delta's ribs to his face, cupping his jaw and brushing his thumb over Delta's cheek. "It's fine, Delta. I promise. Alpha does shit like that all the time. Hell, even I do." He smiles, though he's not sure Delta can see it with the dim light in the bedroom. "It's really not a big deal. I'm sorry for making a mountain out of a molehill, or whatever the saying is."

"You were correct," Delta tells him, and Epsilon can feel him smile. "If you do not think it is odd, then I will continue openly."

"Good boy," Epsilon teases, patting Delta's cheek before moving his hand back to where it was. "Maybe we can get you on some anxiety m—"

"No."

Epsilon lets it go. "Okay. Hey, as far as coping mechanisms go, this is pretty harmless. … Despite the petty theft, I guess."

"It is not theft," Delta insists, his voice getting quieter, softer, as he starts to fall asleep. "They never noticed."

Epsilon snorts. "Okay, Delta. Whatever you say. Thief."


End file.
